BBC News | ENTERTAINMENT | Wannabe Castaways apply in droves Friday, 5 January, 2001, 17:09 GMT Wannabe Castaways apply in droves The original Castaways have proved an inspiration Thousands of people have already applied to take part in the next series of the BBC's Castaway programme - less than a week after the inaugural experiment came to an end. Makers of the year-long project, which marooned 36 volunteers on a remote Hebridean island, have received more than 14,000 e-mails since inviting new applicants. Producer Jeremy Mills said he had received so many requests for application forms that the system had almost ground to a halt. The next series is going to be about different aspects of life but we are not going to tell them what to expect Producer Jeremy Mills A team of researchers is now sifting through the pile of names wanting to leave the hustle and bustle of modern life. The first set of Castaways were watched coping - unaided by mod cons - with the harsh conditions of the island of Taransay, off Scotland. Details of the second series are being kept secret.

What is known is that it will only last five weeks. Highs and lows However, Mills said the second series would follow the format of the first. "We will be taking people out of their normal lives into an extraordinary situation of some sort so that they face aspects of life which are important. Ben Fogle became a heart throb for viewers He then added: "Castaway 2000 was about community living, what luxuries were important and how one achieves job satisfaction. "The next series is going to be about different aspects of life but we are not going to tell them what to expect." Out of the 36 islanders who began the first social experiment last year, only 29 saw things through to the end. The year-long programme witnessed incredible highs and lows, with acrimonious departures in the case of some, and others finding love on the island. Life on the five-mile long island contrasted greatly with city living. Taransay has no trees and is buffeted by 100 mph winds and storm force seas from September to May. And the islanders, chosen to reflect a microcosm of British society, had only limited resources.

However, by the end of the year many of the group were sorry to leave and were apprehensive about returning to their former lives. Search BBC News Online BBC News | ENTERTAINMENT | Castaway in talks after island hop Monday, 10 July, 2000, 01:00 GMT 02:00 UK Castaway in talks after island hop The castaways are living on Taransay for a year One of the castaways on the Hebridean island of Taransay is in talks with the BBC after leaving the island. Mr Copsey is currently staying at the Harris Hotel in Tarbert, Harris where discussions with BBC production staff are taking place. Trainee psychotherapist Ron Copsey reportedly blamed personality clashes and "inflated egos" for his decision to leave the island on Saturday. A BBC spokeswoman could only confirm that Mr Copsey was "with production" and that each of the castaways had signed a document which forbids them from talking to the press for the duration of the �2.4m project.

Mr Copsey, 43, from Middlesex, is understood to have been unhappy with the strict regime imposed by the other 'castaways' taking part in the BBC survival documentary series of that name. The windswept island is only five miles long The former Kew Gardens worker's temper tantrums have been one of the highlights of the show and are said to be one of the reasons for its high viewing figures. He is thought to have been finding life on the island "difficult" and further details will emerge during the course of the programme. Previous deserter Mr Copsey is not the first castaway to leave Taransay. Ray Bowyer, 59, from Lancashire left the island in March on a launch paid for by a tabloid newspaper. Bowyer was asked to leave less than three months into the year-long project after disagreements with the rest of the community on the Castaway 2000 project and the programme-makers. The remaining castaways will remain on the island until the end of December.

See also: From the archive: BBC's flu-hit castaways flee isle | From the Guardian | The Guardian From the archive: BBC's flu-hit castaways flee isle Originally published on 7 January 2000 Share on Messenger Close After the SAS-style survival training, it should have been a mere trifle. But, though they coped with the gusting 140mph winds and driving rain, castaway volunteers of the BBC's latest series have been forced off their deserted island by a bout of flu. Only days after arriving on the Outer Hebridean island of Taransay, some of the flu-struck volunteers, who will become the stars of the Castaway 2000 series, have abandoned their primitive homes in favour of centrally heated flats. The BBC billed it is as a unique social experiment, building a community in one of the harshest environments in Britain. The series producers said only those who wished to escape the new millennium and its comforts in order to reflect on life need apply. Yet, as the flu bites, some of the 35 volunteers have been spotted living it up – in comparison – on a nearby island.

News of their premature departure from Taransay came to light when locals on Harris noticed "well-dressed English people" shopping on the high street at Tarbert, the main town. "They came in and bought some bread and soup and then went on their way. They were quite young, probably in their twenties," said a shop worker. Yesterday Jeremy Mills, the executive producer of the series, admitted that some of the worst affected volunteers, including children, had been allowed to leave the island. They will stay on Harris until their illness wanes, while, five miles away, their colleagues have to put up with the Hebridean storms, which have destroyed a pig sty and blown off a roof. "This was never intended to be a programme about survival," said Mr Mills. "It was felt that, because the project was at such an early stage and things just weren't up and running yet, it would be best for some of those with flu to go to Harris." Before arriving on Taransay on December 31, the volunteers underwent training with the SAS survival expert Lofty Wiseman . It is understood that some volunteers were unhappy at the others leaving so quickly – and this reaction will be broadcast in the series.

For the next year, the 35 men women and children – who include a doctor, teacher and butcher – will be deprived of any 20th or 21st century comforts. Mr Mills claimed the decision to let the flu-struck leave the island for Harris would perhaps not have been taken had the project been running longer. BFI Screenonline: Castaway 2000 (2000-01) Castaway 2000 (2000-01) 18 x 50 min editions, colour Show full synopsis Settling on the Hebridean island of Taransay for a year, the castaways of this series signed up for sustainable living in a small community with the promise of starting the new millennium away from the pressures of modern life. Selected with help from a psychologist and a survival expert, the participants had to prove their ability to endure tough conditions before being offered a place on the island. The 28 adults and 8 children who were chosen evolved into a community over the course of the year, though not all the participants saw the experiment through to the end.

The project was intended to start on 1st January 2000, but was beset by difficulties when some participants were struck down by flu and the accommodation was not ready in time. This led to several members staying on a nearby island for a few weeks. After a shaky start the islanders set about working the land, managing the livestock and building their community through weekly meetings. Contraband became a source of division in the group, as some sought to maintain the authenticity of the experience while others procured small luxuries from visiting locals. Unusually the programme did not adopt a 'fly on the wall' format to documenting the experiment. Instead a filmmaker, Tanya Cheadle , lived among the castaways and recorded their experiences. Occasionally Cheadle discussed how this complicated her position and created tensions as she attempted to reconcile her twin roles as observer and group member. A video diary room was also available to the castaways but as this was self-operated some entries were lost through technical error. A series updating the castaways' progress was broadcast every three months, but the advent of Channel 4 in summer 2000 made this approach seem outmoded.

Castaway 2000 was also the subject of controversy when one participant left the island with the help of a tabloid newspaper and a family departed complaining of religious discrimination. The inclusion of families differentiated the series from other island-based reality series, including the follow up Castaway 2007 . Though some of the participants felt the worthiness of the exercise was damaged by the producers' focus on clashing personalities and arguments, most finished their year-long stay with a fondness for the island and their fellow castaways. The series won enough public affection to be the subject of a spoof in an advertisement for Persil washing powder. Lisa Kerrigan Return to Castaway Island: The cast of Britain's first reality TV programme reunite | Daily Mail Online Return to Castaway Island: The cast of Britain's first reality TV programme reunite comments Ten years ago, Castaway turned 28 adults and eight children into Britain’s first reality TV stars. Now, as the cast prepare for a reunion on the remote Hebridean island of Taransay where they found fame, five of them tell how the groundbreaking show changed their lives. It was a groundbreaking programme that ­ushered in a new era of reality television.

Now the cast of the BBC’s Castaway 2000 are to return to the uninhabited Hebridean island of Taransay to mark the show’s tenth anniversary. The reunion will be a time to rekindle friendships, forget old enmities and to reflect on how a project billed as a ‘bold social experiment’ affected the lives of the 28 adults and eight children who built their own community and lived there for a year. The £2.4 million project, which started on December 30, 1999, was plagued by problems and hardships for the castaways, who arrived to find their eco-pod houses and compost lavatories were not ready. Families with children rebelled and returned to the mainland, so sowing the seeds of division. Seven castaways quit before the year was out. There were power games, gossip, broken bones – and the odd romance.

Castaway turned 28 adults and eight children into Britain's first reality TV stars - and now the cast plan to reunite But attempts by the programme-makers to manipulate the castaways met with hostility from the islanders, who found ingenious ways to break the rules, including bribing a local fisherman to leave supplies on the beach. And the show made a star of TV presenter Ben Fogle who, until then, worked on Tatler magazine. The Mail on Sunday caught up with some of those who became stars of the show to find out what happened after they left Taransay. 1. Ben Fogle, 36, presenter, writer and adventurer, lives with wife Marina, 31, and seven-month-old son Ludo in West London. Posh Ben: The year on Taransay was a great adventure for Fogle, and introduced him to environmental issues He says: ‘I had no plans to make a career in TV, so Castaway was a life-changing experience. It opened my eyes to environmental issues. The high point was being on magical Taransay, the real star of the show. ‘Many of my fellow castaways are now friends, with a dozen of them attending my wedding.

I loved interacting with the children as it was an opportunity to practise being a dad. The low points were when people left, when Ron’s dog Charlie died and being away from friends and family. It was like living in a pressure cooker. I had a ­falling-out with Ron, which ended up with me in tears. But I’d love to see him again. ‘Everyone called me Posh Ben, but really Castaway was more “me” than Tatler was. My major achievement was helping put up miles of deer fence and the water piping. ‘I loved the community, but there was a rift between the younger cast­ aways and those with families, who wanted more infrastructure and food, which created a tense atmosphere. After Big Brother aired, the BBC wanted me to shave my Robinson Crusoe beard because it wasn’t good for ratings, but I wouldn’t. ‘Castaway was orig­inal, pure and naive. It was the forerunner and the antithesis of today’s slick shows that are all about fame, money and exploitation. ‘We used people power to resist the TV executives. We were all volunteers with nothing to lose. There were no prizes and no one wanted to be famous.

I’m proud we became a self-sufficient community within a year.’ 2, 3 Oliver Stephenson, 17, A-level student, lives with parents in Crediton, Devon. He says: ‘I was seven when I went to Taransay with my parents and my brother Felix, who was five. It sounded a great idea to be taken out of school, but at the beginning I wanted to go home because I missed my friends. ‘I remember writing to a friend, recalling making a raft and sailing round the lochs. I sent him letters and photographs because there were no computers or email. ‘It was an exciting time, chasing deer out of our vegetable patch. School on the island was a very different experience as there were just eight of us. Sometimes Mum taught us but I loved learning from people with different skills, from artists and poets. Great idea: Oliver Stephenson, pictured with his mother Rosemary, loved chasing deer, but aged just seven, missed his friends ‘The things I missed were tele­vision and flushing toilets. The food was good and varied, dep­ending on the effort people put in. Sometimes we didn’t have much to eat, but it was rewarding to eat what we had grown.

I learnt how to knit and splice ropes – I helped make our garden hammock out of fishing nets from the island. ‘I’ve just finished my AS-levels and hope to go to Cambridge University. I love travel and experiencing new things. I feel the pull of somewhere really remote and open to the elements.’ 4 Ron Copsey, 54, therapist and writer, lives near Ipswich, Suffolk. Lost the plot: Ron Copsey quit the show when his dog Charlie died He says: ‘I quit the island after six months following the death of my border collie Charlie. It was like losing my best friend and I lost the plot. I’ve had a plaque made for her grave on Taransay. ‘But my lasting memories are much more positive. I made great friends and we’re still very much in touch today. My biggest contribution was being involved in the children’s edu­cation. They made me laugh. It will be great to meet them all again as young adults. ‘Castaway is a bittersweet memory for me with the rows about homophobia, drinking too much and then successfully suing the programme-makers for libel. ‘Given the chance again, I might have behaved differently.

Alcohol fuelled some of the rows and things got out of hand. I’m now teetotal. I’ve also realised that we learn more by listening than talking. We were all stressed at times and said things we regret. ‘Since Castaway, I’ve gained a BA in counselling and work with addicts. I am currently enjoying a sabbatical with my dogs.’ 5 Sandy Colbeck, 68, mother of two, retired microbiologist, lives in Fareham, Hampshire. Sandy Colbeck is still friends with 20 of the castaways She says: ‘I was divorced and wanted to get out of the rat race and lead a simple communal life. I looked after the chickens, which I loved. The low point was that winter seemed to go on for ever. ‘When the production company failed to send all the food we’d ordered, I went to a store on the mainland, which was against the rules. I stocked up on green veg and fruit, chocolate eggs for the children’s Easter egg hunt and a couple of turkeys. ‘Castaway didn’t change me. I am independent, don’t suffer fools gladly, conscientious and focused. Some people thought I was brusque but that’s how I am.

‘To get to know people and learn about them takes a while and a year gives you time to do that. I have remained friends with about 20 castaways.’ 6, 7, 8 Julia Corrigan, 52, former teacher, lives in Witham, Essex, with husband Colin and their daughter Natasha. Paradise: Julia Corrigan, right, with Colin and Natasha. Colin bawled his eyes out when they left She says: ‘I was so excited at the idea of living on a beautiful, romantic island and leaving normal society. Living off the land in the freezing Hebrides and walking along white beaches was fantastic. ‘We married three weeks before we left for Taransay and sold every­thing we owned, so it was really scary. It was a real community, with all its problems and some strong characters who were over-dramatic. ‘People could be selfish. There were factions and petty arguments about who ate the last egg. But there was also fun, lots of sing­ing, dancing and games. ‘As a family we had a wonderful experience. It changed our ideas of how to live.

We went on to live in the middle of nowhere, keeping pigs and chickens and trying to live off the land for six years.’ Colin, 57, a decorator, was the island’s slaughterman. ‘I smuggled in booze and fags and those holier-than-thou types would sheepishly ask me what I could get,’ he says. ‘I gained new skills: smoking bacon and pork in a filing cabinet, making a coffin for Ron’s dog. I loved the camarad­erie. The island was paradise. ‘When I left, I bawled my eyes out.

It was like a bereavement.’ How Castaway made my life hell | Television & radio | The Guardian Reality TV How Castaway made my life hell Ten years on, one of the participants in the BBC reality show on why it took him years to recover from the experience Ron Copsey preparing for the Castaway project with Ben Fogle Photograph: Simon Roberts/BBC ONE Reality TV How Castaway made my life hell Ten years on, one of the participants in the BBC reality show on why it took him years to recover from the experience Ron Copsey Share on Messenger Close Ten years ago I was one of 36 men, women and children recruited to live on the remote Hebridean island of Taransay as part of the Castaway 2000 project for the BBC. It was ambitiously billed as a "bold new experiment for the new millennium" and we were the guinea pigs who'd build a sustainable, self-sufficient community from scratch and fend for ourselves in the Scottish wilderness. We'd grow our own food, kill our own meat and govern ourselves for the year-long project. It was to be a year that changed my life in ways I could never imagine.

In contrast to today's reality TV, there were no cash prizes, rewards, winners or losers – we were told this was a show with "integrity and credibility". At the time of being selected in 1999 I was a 44-year-old gay man living in Twickenham; I was in pretty good shape – happy and content. I'd just retired from an acting career and begun a degree in counselling, supporting myself as a freelance writer. I had a clear focus and direction, but curiosity got the better of me. A friend alerted me to the advert for Castaway, saying I'd be the only person they knew mad enough to give it a go. The concept intrigued me. What a fantastic opportunity to experiment with a different way of life; to learn about human nature and group dynamics. Nobody was more surprised than me when I was selected. I was one of the first Castaways to be offered a place, and the last to sign the contract. I felt like a groom walking up the aisle on his wedding day, not really convinced that he's doing the right thing. It didn't take long to discover my gut instinct was right.

On 27 December 1999, we left our homes and families, and on our arrival in Scotland were told the island was not ready for habitation. We were thrown into a youth hostel and then informed that some of our personal possessions had been dropped during an airlift. I was one of the four unlucky ones – everything we'd packed for the year had been destroyed. One catastrophe followed another – there was a serious outbreak of flu and bronchitis, and many of us were terribly ill. The younger, fitter Castaways were shipped off to the island and built makeshift accommodation in the schoolhouse; those of us who were sick were transferred to a hotel, along with the families who refused to put their children at risk on Taransay, which still resembled a building site. The TV crew looked stressed and agitated. We were later to discover that the division created between those on the mainland and those on the island would provide their first major source of televised conflict – with those on Taransay hailed as heroes and the rest of us portrayed as objectionable wimps. These stories found their way into the tabloid press. Being pitted against each other wasn't pleasant, and it felt as if there was more to come.

Many of us thought of returning home. But we kept each other going, saying that once we got to the island things would be different. Sometime in late January we eventually got to the island. Taransay is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen, and we all fell in love with it. The winter weather could be ferocious but in spring and summer it was heaven on earth. The landscape is rugged and wild, and you feel at its mercy. Most of the early days were spent getting to know each other and having endless meetings about how we were to live on Taransay. Many rows ensued regarding the work rota and how to spend the community budget – even some punch ups between some of the men. It all seemed so surreal because of the ever-present cameras. We had a resident camerawoman who was installed as a fellow Castaway, and we were taught how to use cameras and encouraged to film each other. In addition the main crew visited every fortnight – this would make most of us scatter to all four corners of Taransay to evade them. By now, most of us had a fundamental mistrust of the TV company – feeling they were manipulative, divisive and disruptive.

They had their favourite Castaways, those who were compliant in the face of their demands, and these people were treated well and given gifts. Others – like me – who refused to be controlled were treated harshly. Ben Fogle was chosen very early on as the star of the show, and this caused resentment within the camp. It wasn't Fogle's fault – he was a good-looking young man with a posh accent, while the rest of us looked like we'd been pulled through a hedge backwards. He was obviously going to be the show's eye candy. Ben and I started out as good mates but, like everyone on the island, we had our ups and downs. As the programmes began to be aired, we received letters from home warning us that we'd been cast like actors in a soap opera – with all the focus on the rows and discord. Many of us decided to play the production team at their own game, and began to break the rules of the project. We were supposed to have no contact with the outside world but gave our credit cards to locals on the mainland, who would bring us "contraband" – luxury foods, alcohol and tobacco. We felt like we'd been set up to fail.

For example, having selected me as the only gay in the village, the programme makers had also recruited a family of Seventh-day Adventists, who would be likely to object to my sexuality. The fuse was lit by members of the production team who publicly branded me a "drama queen" whenever I refused to co-operate with them. And they eventually got their pound of flesh, when the situation flared up and I had the Bible quoted at me. I was left feeling isolated and vulnerable. We eventually patched up our differences, but little support was offered by the programme makers, who only seemed interested in squeezing every last frame out of the situation. And the same went for many other Castaways who needed emotional support for a variety of reasons that year – bereavements, severe depression, broken hearts, homesickness, the list was endless. We were left to our own devices – it was sink or swim. There were no counsellors attached to the project – only a clinical psychologist who had helped with the selection process and who, by her own admission, had little or no counselling experience. Six months rolled by and I became increasing disillusioned.

My dog, Charlie, who had been my constant companion for 13 years, suddenly became very ill and needed to see a vet on the mainland. Advanced cancer was diagnosed, and Charlie was put to sleep. Grief-stricken, I fell into a deep depression. I'd bought Charlie as an eight-week-old puppy from Battersea dogs' home in 1987 and she became my world – we went everywhere together. To me, it was like losing a child. At my lowest point, a member of the production team presented me with the vet's bill and insisted I obtain the Castaways' approval to pay this from the community budget – another potential source of conflict. Their insensitivity made me see red, and sparked a chain of events that led to me leaving the island. I wanted to be with my family and friends, so I planned my escape on a boat that came to collect livestock. The TV producers insisted I stay. Before we left, the author of the official Castaway book, who had been visiting the island was told: "Take the bastard into the middle of the sea and drown him." Back at home my depression deepened as I watched the programmes.

I left the show in June 2000, but footage of me rowing with other Castaways continued to be screened right up until October. I was portrayed as a loose cannon with few redeeming qualities. I was constantly recognised by people who'd seen the show, and I felt they were thinking badly of me. Losing one's anonymity in this way can be scary. I became a virtual prisoner in my own home. By then I was drinking far too much alcohol and my life was in chaos. Every time another episode of Castaway was aired, it got worse. One of the hardest things was discovering that my nephews had been bullied at school because of the way I'd been demonised. Eventually, after around 18 months in hiding, with the help of a therapist, I managed to pull through and went back to training as a counsellor. Continuing to gather strength, I decided sue the BBC and the production company Lion TV for libel following the screening of a sequence of events that I can only describe as distorted and untruthful. Viewers were led to believe that, following Charlie's death and being told about the vet's bill, I'd had a violent outburst and thrown a chair at a female Castaway.

The row had actually been with a member of the production team, when I had thrown a chair – against a wall – and left the room. The programme-makers then cobbled this together with old footage of another Castaway crying, and saying that she was intimidated by me. I won my case and was awarded £16,000 in damages, plus costs, and I got my apology in the high court. Libel is notoriously difficult and costly to prove, and I remain the first and only reality TV participant to have successfully sued in this way. Since then, I've watched the damage caused by reality TV get progressively worse: the cruel exploitation of young people on shows such as The X Factor; extreme violence erupting on Big Brother; suicides, mental breakdowns and even a murder arising from one American show. Many people who feel their lives have been destroyed by reality TV have contacted me for help and support – some of them suicidal. Their suffering is real – and a high price to pay for entertainment. In defending their programmes, TV producers claim their victims know what they're letting themselves in for, that contestants "know the score". I certainly didn't – and the power imbalance was huge.

From our experience on the island, it was telling that no significant dramas involving the community's camerawoman were shown on TV. An incident on Taransay sticks in my mind. One of the kids stole some sweets from my room and the camera–woman demanded I be interviewed on camera. I refused, explaining that if the programme branded the child a thief, it could have devastating consequences for them. She told me that on becoming a Castaway we'd agreed that everything could be filmed: "It's contractual," I was informed. Her lack of concern for the child's welfare astounded me. Sadly, it's far too late to stop the reality TV beast, but I'd like to see much better accountability and responsibility. Producers could start by only recruiting those robust enough for the challenge and by offering appropriate support and aftercare. Why does there always need to have been a fatal train crash before the dodgy rails are fixed? Of course, Castaway wasn't all bad. I made some great friends and the bond between us is like those forged between survivors of any terrible disaster. We've been far more forgiving towards each other because we accept that we lived in a pressure cooker.

We all said and did things we regret and are guilty of taking ourselves far too seriously. A decade on, some of us are planning an informal reunion on Taransay this weekend, and this time we will be captains of our own ship – this is a holiday for the Castaways by the Castaways, void of intrusive camera crews. This will be the first time I've been back to the island, and it's been good to reflect on the experience. Many of my most treasured memories involve the children. I'll never forget my drama classes, and making music in the kitchen with pots and pans and anything else we could find. My biggest contribution to island life was in the education and development of the children, but sadly only a few seconds of this was shown over the entire series. It's a shame the children were not featured more – they're a very special bunch. After Charlie died they made beautiful sympathy cards and created a seat made from rocks at the foot of her grave so I could "sit and talk to her". One of them gave me a stone decorated with 13 tiny yellow seashells – one from each of Charlie's life.

Looking back I can that perhaps we had the most to learn from the children, who bonded quickly, rarely argued, had terrific fun and were an inspiration in how to seize the day. It will be interesting to meet them again as young adults. Although Castaway had its successes, it also had glaring failures. We were given a wonderful opportunity to live differently, and all we did was replicate how we lived at home: people wanted rules, cliques, some kind of permanent, secure structure. It was disappointing that the Taransay community appeared to reflect society, but, for whatever reason, the minority groups felt marginalised and quit the island early – the oldest man, the gay man, the black family. The experience has changed me in many ways. I left London and moved to the country, and I'm happier with a quieter, more relaxed existence. I guess the project helped me grow up: the person I am today would never do Castaway. But perhaps the biggest legacy is my healthy contempt for reality TV, and my desire to assist those who have also been damaged. Since gaining my degree and working as a therapist, I've decided to specialise in TV aftercare. I certainly feel qualified.

Castaway: Amazon.co.uk: Mark McCrum: 9780091879686: Books By A Customer on 29 Jun. 2001 Format: Paperback I hadn't watched any of the TV series on "Castaway 2000" until recently and was sufficiently inspired to order a copy of Mark McCrums book from Amazon. One of the main criticisms of the first edition of the book was that it ended before the Castaways year of experiences on the island of Taransay was up. The paperback edition corrects this curtailment by including some final chapters on the closing scenes as the Castaways left their island home and also an epilogue describing what happened to some of the Castaways post TV-La-la-land. Marks book is largely made up of dialogue taken from video diaries and personal written diaries kept by the "islanders" and as such you feel like the 'invisible friend' drawn into the experience and confided in. However, I couldn't help feel that much of what Marks book concentrates on is the 'black' and conflict plagued side of island life.

I would recommend reading the book in conjunction with watching the TV programmes and actually observe that many of the episodes recounted in the book with an air of foreboding actually were quite comical and humorous events! I felt the biggest missing element from the book was the main character herself - the Island of Taransay. There is some description of parts of the island but dont read the book expecting delicious depiction of sandy bleached-white beaches, wind swept mountains with glistening snow caps, blue white-topped waves crashing against iodine black seaweed coated rocks. Thats not the kind of book Mark has written - it's a story of peoples interactions with each other, not with the island. Read more › Castaway 2000 - BBC One London - 21 September 2000 - BBC Genome Submit Cancel We have recently produced a Style Guide to help editors follow a standard format when editing a listing. If you are unsure how best to edit this programme please take a moment to read it. The last in the current series of updates on the eclectic group of people marooned on a remote Hebridean island.

It's midsummer and mid project - time for family week on Taransay, where each member of the community is allowed two close relatives or friends to visit the island. Recovering from the turbulent departure of Ron Copsey and enjoying contact with the outside world, the community is on a high. But it's not all good news from home as Tammy finds out why she has no visitors, and a surprise caller for the Careys makes them think about their future on the island. (S) (W) Contributors Find out how to get in touch About this project This site contains the BBC listings information which the BBC printed in Radio Times between 1923 and 2009. You can search the site for BBC programmes, people, dates and Radio Times editions. We hope it helps you find that long forgotten BBC programme, research a particular person or browse your own involvement with the BBC. Through the listings, you will also be able to find thousands of radio and TV programmes that are already available to view or listen to on the BBC website. This is a historical record of both the planned output and the BBC services of any given time.

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Please tick to indicate that you understand the above and agree not to share any material from this version of Genome externally. OK Ben Fogle: why I want to buy Taransay - Telegraph Ecology Ben Fogle: why I want to buy Taransay Ben Fogle hopes to buy the uninhabited Outer Hebridean island of Taransay, where he lived for year for the BBC reality show 'Castaway'. Here, he explains why he'd turn the remote outpost - on the market for £2 million - into a wildlife reserve Image 1 of 2 Ben Fogle: 'Taransay needs an owner who will love and care for her like a child' The island was the home of Celtic pagans back in 300AD Photo: ALAMY By Ben Fogle Comments Eleven years ago, I fell head over heels in love. Not with a person, but with the wild, exciting, beautiful island of Taransay . I was lucky enough to spend a year living on the uninhabited Outer Hebridean isle for the BBC’s television programme, Castaway. The premise was to create a fully self-sufficient community by the year’s end.

A small community of 36 men, women and children, we built a thriving little community among the remains of a once-thriving, now-derelict village. The day I left was one of the saddest of my life and I vowed to return. The island was bought in 1967 for £300 by the MacKay family. They had used it for grazing until 2000, when it briefly become my home. Yesterday, the MacKay family put it on the market for £2million. Each day I spent on Taransay, I went exploring with my black Labrador, Inca. By the end of the year, we knew every rock, bog and loch on the island, which is about four miles wide and three miles long, navigating effortlessly across the Machair and along the beaches. We would clamber our way up to the islands highest peak Ben Raah, and look out over the Harris mainland. The view will stay with me until the day I die. Bleak, treeless and windswept, the island should have been a godforsaken place, but it was without doubt the most beautiful place I have been.

The constantly changing weather and light altered the island like an artist’s canvas. The talc-white sandy beaches and the turquoise waters were more striking than any Carribbean or Pacific island I have visited. Related Articles Caledonia, Heart of Pine 09 Jun 2011 I have returned to Taransay several times since the end of the project – once, for the wedding of a fellow castaway, Tanya Cheadle and her fiancé Paul Overton, a producer of the series; and then for my own honeymoon, during which it poured with rain for a week. But even that didn’t dampen my love of this unique island. The last time I was there was last year, for a tenth anniversary reunion. Almost 20 of the original Castaways returned to the island for a week last July. It was a moving event for us all. Like a pilgrimage, we returned with new children and spouses to a place we had loved so much. But it wasn’t the same place. The island seemed tinged with sadness. It was in a sorry state.

The wind turbine had long stopped turning, the deer fencing had collapsed, and the old polytunnels in which we had grown all of our fruit and veg were skeletal, stripped of their skin. The wild red deer desperately needed to be culled. The island had also become largely untenable for farmer Angus Mackay, whose decision to sell up is understandable: he can’t find people willing to work there, and making a living has become impossible. Ferrying his sheep for sale on the mainland, in his small blue landing craft, costs more in food and fuel than the value of the livestock. I have long dreamed of buying Taransay myself. The £2million-pound price tag may sound high, but this is an iconic island with incredible potential for those with vision and passion. With its remote location, the island is visited intermittently by hikers and sailors, who could form the basis of a small tourism industry. It was recently used as a backdrop for The Rocket Post, a quirky British drama about an attempt in the Thirties to deliver letters to the equally remote island of Scarp using a postbag attached to a small rocket. The crew said it was the best location they had ever used.

With Tansaray on the market, I have been in contact with a number of individuals to look into the possibility of a consortium buying the island. It could be transformed into a wildlife reserve, with sustainable lodges for guests. This could finally pay for its maintenance and upkeep, while also providing some much needed local employment. I would point to a model offered by Alladale in the Scottish Highlands. The 23,000-acre estate is owned by Paul Lister who is keen to reintroduce species indigenous to the Glens, such as wolves and bears. Wild boar and moose have already been brought back to the British Isles in this way. Earlier this week, a European Elk was born north of the Great Glen for the first time in 1,100 years. My second child, a daughter called Iona, named after the Scottish island, was born last week. Taransay needs an owner who will love and care for her like a child. I think I know just the person. I’ll be talking to my bank manager later. * The Accidental Adventurer by Ben Fogle will be published by Transworld in September;

Question: On which Hebridean island was the BBC programme 'Castaway 2000' set?
Answer: Taransay